Eat Them
by Sarah the Welsh One
Summary: An spin-off from the "Visitors" series- Faith has another meeting with her prison psychiatrist.


Title: Eat Them  
  
Part: 1/1  
  
Series: 'Monsters'  
  
AN: Originally this was a part of the 'Visitors' series. It is linked but it's separate, based on a new series I'm writing that goes on from this quote: "If Dino had been a velociraptor, he would have eaten the Flintstones." from Friends.  
  
"How are you feeling, Faith? Better?"  
  
Better than what? Better than last time? You'd think, wouldn't ya. Sitting in a cell all day, every day, the clock tickin' round to freedom, how can you possibly feel worse? I dunno, maybe I don't feel worse. Just don't feel better, that's for sure. I'll know it the second I feel better.  
  
"Not so bad."  
  
"Really." Yes, really. I lie to you all the time, but I'm not today, not this time. I don't know why. I'm not saying there are reasons behind it. Probably I just like lying to you, but it takes too much effort. Not feeling real playful today, you know? Quit scrawling in that little book of yours, when we all know you're writing 'head case' in big red letters in that fancy pen of yours. "I hear you have had a couple of visitors. Would you like to tell me about that?"  
  
"Not really." Hey, if you stay here long enough, do they engrave your name on that pen? Is it refillable?  
  
"I'd like it if you would, please."  
  
Okay, so, where to begin. Buffy's mom? Or Angel's Samaritan streak? "Where."  
  
"At the beginning is usually sufficient."  
  
Everyone hates a smartass. When I'm outta here, and you bump into me on the street, you better hope it's not dark out. "Buffy came a coupla weeks back."  
  
"And who is Buffy?"  
  
"She's a..." Friend? Definitely not. And not cause of any shit I pulled on her, either. She tried to stab me, for God's sake. I mean, what kind of a friend does that? She was with me when I stabbed Finch, too, but I notice there wasn't any question of her going down. And yeah, I tried to kill Angel, but only for Richard! "Acquaintance."  
  
"An acquaintance." He nods, looking interested. It's like a Homer Simpson mask. Behind the soothing face, he's asleep. "What did she have to say?"  
  
"Some news from back... where I used to live." Sunnydale. Land of the brave and the home of the free. Or however it goes. Never felt enough national pride to learn any anthem. God save the Queen, the Fascist regime. That's more my style. He continues to stare at me. I'm not a specimen. Don't study me. "Her mom died. I..."  
  
"How does that make you feel?"  
  
"Sad." The word jumps out before I can even stop it. "I mean, I didn't at first. Thought B got what was comin' to her. I got to thinking after that." Ding dong, Joyce is dead gave way to wow, Joyce is dead. Not poor B, though, I never got to that chain of thought. Poor B, yeah, right. She gets what she deserves. Just feel bad for Joyce, that's all. Seems kinda soon.  
  
"About." Nothing important that you need to know about. "Nothing. Then Angel came to visit." I sigh involuntarily. Angel. Now he can mess a girl up. "He only comes cause he feels sorry for me. I don't want to see him but. It's a big thing to do."  
  
"He's your... beau?"  
  
Beau? How nineteen fifties can you get? "No, he's not my... beau. He's... he was... long story.  
  
Can I go now?" I look longingly at the door. The officer by the door fashions a grip on his nightstick. In England they call them truncheons. That always makes me laugh.  
  
"Yes, you may. I'd like another talk about this... this Buffy, though. And Angel. How you feel about Buffy's mother being dead. Do you feel you need to talk about it some more, Faith?"  
  
"No." I stand up, brush the dust off my prison issue pants. "I gotta get back. Cut the head off this cockroach this morning. I want to see if it's still runnin' around."  
  
"Perhaps another time, then. Take her back, please. I'll see you again, Faith."  
  
I hold out my wrist to be cuffed to the officer.  
  
("I like him. He's butch.")  
  
And suddenly my smart comment has gone.  
  
("My mom. She's... she's dead.")  
  
"Just take me back," I mumble.  
  
"To see your cockroach?" the officer sniggers.  
  
"Whatever." Pass me the truncheon, kids. I'm going in. 


End file.
